Wanderers: Black Sails
by StepfordSnarker
Summary: After years spent afloat, Audrey Langdon finally sets a foot in Nassau. It's not long before she's caught in the midst of a gathering storm, between rival captains, queens in all but name and the greed of men. But power plays are not her sole problem, and she soon finds herself tangled in more than one way. Can she remain herself, or will she have to once again become the Red Fury?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first published fanfiction on the site, and I'm not a native English speaker, so bear with me if some of my wording is grammatically incorrect. Other than that, I was saddened to see how few fanfics on Black Sails there were on this site (or at least enjoyable ones), so with the third series launched two days ago I decided to start my own. I've got five more pre-written chapters in stock but I have to wait until the third series is over before starting to develop on the material, so I'll try to keep the publishing rate at once per week. That being said I'm still on break right now and my studies take a lot of my time, so sadly I cannot make any promises.**

 **27.07.2016 Update: So, I'm back in the game after a six-months hiatus. I fully apologize for the delay my writing has taken - I'm in medical school, and it is beyond time-consuming, so I'm enjoying my holidays as much as I can.**

 **A lot of things can change in a few months, though, and that includes my standards in terms of writing and characterization, not to mention my state of mind after the Black Sails finale this year. This is why I've decided to give this fic a reboot.**

 **As things stand right now, this is a BillyxOCxVane fanfic.** **I'm thinking in the long run, though, so bear with me if nothing quite substantial happens with either of them yet. I really enjoy the original series, and though I don't intend to spit out a perfect replica of the original plot there are quite a few elements that I want to respect instead of trampling them for the sake of my fic.**

 **As for the updates, I'm truly sorry to say that they will not be regular. As I've mentioned earlier, I'm in med school and as soon as the classes start I will be forced to push this project into the background. As fun as it may be to write this fic, I fully intend to prioritize my personal life.**

 **But let's not talk about unpleasant things yet. I'm still on holiday, and until then I'll be updating with relative regularity. The latest chapter has received a few reviews, so as weird as it looks the responses will be down below this first chapter of the new version!**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

Nassau was just beginning to cool down after a warm day when the stranger stopped by the tavern belonging to Eleanor Guthrie.

The sun was beginning to set, and as it followed its course towards the horizon, the place filled in with more and more men that came for a good meal and a drink, commonly accompanied by flocks of whores whose laughter resounded in the crowded room. Mr. Scott was behind the counter as usual, tending to the customers' needs, and occasionally glancing to the wooden door at his right. Lately, Eleanor was less and less seeking his counseling when handling business, and that made him slightly nervous. He was proud of her work, of course, and he was always amazed at her resourcefulness, but sometimes he feared her temper and her pride that could lead to dangerous situations.

He sighed as he filled another tankard and, upon putting it down, he walked up to a new customer.

"What can I get you?"

He hadn't really paid attention to their face in the first place – those things tended to slip when you worked during a long time. But his head shot up when he heard a feminine, fair voice answer him.

"Not a drink, thank you. I'm looking for information."

The woman in front of him had sand-colored skin and fine features, subtly sprinkled with freckles. Her brown hair was assembled in a braid that ran over her shoulder, crossing several necklaces that hung around her throat. She wasn't wearing a dress but masculine clothes, with a piece of red, worn out cloth to hold her pants against her slender waist, the shirt she was wearing attenuating the rest of her silhouette. Prominent was the sword hanging from a leather belt fastened above her hips; but the most striking thing about her was her look. She had eyes that seemed to grasp every detail around her, acute and hard to look away from. She leant towards him, pressing her elbows on the counter as she asked:

"Tell me, where would I find a captain willing to hire me?"

Mr. Scott had to blink a few more times before getting past the surprise of such a demand. It wasn't common for a woman to embark on a ship as anything else than a temporary passenger, especially on pirate ships. For safety reasons, of course – pirates weren't exactly what you called _well-behaved_ , and a life of theft and violence didn't attract a lot of women – but also because they were considered to bring bad luck with them. If anyone else had asked him this, he would have advised them to drop the idea and look for something less hazardous to do with their time.

But there was something about this one that made him hesitate. Perhaps it was her complexion – an inimitable mix of tan and filth that she shared with most sailors on this island –, the calluses punctuating the skin of her hands, the countless scratches on the handle of her weapon, the wear marking her overall attire, every little sign that showed that she wasn't new to the sea. Or perhaps it was simply the instinctive sense of danger that woman gave off. Something Mr. Scott, over his years of dealing with bloodthirsty pirates by the Guthrie's side, had long learned to recognize.

He carefully formulated his answer.

"It would depend, miss," he said. "Do you have anyone to back you up? The crew who brought you on this island, maybe?"

She made a face. "I came here with the help of a merchant. I left my last crew in the waters of Tortuga."

"Why come here, then?" It would have been far easier to find someone to hire her in a place she was already acquainted with. Going through the pain of such a maneuver defied common sense.

"I heard some interesting things about this place," she evasively replied.

Mr. Scott didn't bother lecturing her on the thoughtlessness of her actions and instead reconsidered the situation. On this island, there were captains with wills strong enough to overcome men's superstitions, he knew that for a fact. But those same captains wouldn't hire a woman just because she asked and said please. Since she didn't have a ground to stand on, it was very likely an unsolvable case.

He was pondering how to nicely break the news when a man came lean on the ledge next to her.

Black tufts of hair emerged from under his hat, framing a round, ruddy face. Small brown eyes shone above his arrogant smile. "Hey there, lady," he drawled. "Heard you're lookin' for a crew?"

The brown-haired woman gave a tight smile. "Correct. I would have liked to consider my options–"

"Why 'consider options' when I'm right here?" the other cut her. "Devon Walker, of the _Diver_. If it's a captain you wish for, here he stands!"

He spread his arms out in a theatrical stance. The woman's expression barely disguised her unease. Mr. Scott refrained from making any comment; if anything, that kind of proposal was to be expected with such inquiries. As long as the pirate didn't spark any trouble, he would gladly let him show her what this town was really made of – it got the point across better than any speech he could have given.

"I'm grateful for the offer, but really, I don't want to make hasty choices," the stranger insisted. In vain: the man's grin only widened, and he got slightly closer to her.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't tell me I'm scaring you? Look, me and my men, we're nice with the ladies," he said as he gestured toward a table where several pirates were seated, some of them in the company of giggling prostitutes. A certain number of them were attentively watching their captain, not without amusement.

Slowly, the woman's smile faded away. "You're not scaring me," she said softly, her gaze still lingering on the animated table.

Where Mr. Scott could discern the hint of a threat, the pirate only heard an invitation. "Glad to hear that, sweetie," he laughed, and his hand left the surface of the counter to wander on the woman's side – lower than the barkeeper could see. Her head immediately snapped to the side, setting a sharp stare on the man.

"Remove your hand."

Mr. Scott decided it was high time to stop all this – partly because he knew where this kind of situation usually led, but also because of the deadly calmness emanating from that single order. It put his every instincts on edge.

"Sir, you heard the lady," he warned. "Please do as you are told."

The pirate's face contorted in a mask of rage. "Did I fucking talk to you, mosshead?" he snarled.

The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. Mr. Scott couldn't care less about being insulted – God knew he had been called worse – but his inability to defuse the situation by himself was more than worrying.

He was about to call O'Malley when a deep, gravelly voice rose.

"If I were you, I would back off while I still got the chance."

Three stares turned to the owner of said voice, and the barkeeper's anxiety reached new heights. The man that had just spoken had sharp features and green, piercing eyes; despite his nonchalant stance, there was some kind of unspoken warning in the way his body rested on the very edge of the bar – as if he were ready to jump in a fight at any given second. Knowing what Mr. Scott knew of him, that was probably the truth.

For a brief moment, the offender appeared to be taken aback; soon enough, though, he regained a semblance of composure.

"What?" he sneered. "Want her for yourself?"

The other didn't respond to the provocation. Instead, he retrieved a cigar from one of his pockets and began examining it with deliberate dispassion.

"Pirate women are not quite common," he stated. "In fact, there are so few that not a single one of them goes unnoticed. If you come across one of them, chances are you've already heard of her."

Hearing those words, Mr. Scott internally cursed himself. Seeing the young woman walk to his counter, hearing her candid questions, he had only been worried about her safety.

He had not asked her name.

"Now, in those waters, two names come in mind," the green-eyed man pursued. "Neither is harmless. However, one of them is known for never walking on her own. As for the other…" he trailed off, lifting his gaze from the cigar as a look of disbelieving horror progressively claimed the other man's features.

"Do you still want to keep your hand where it is?"

It was at this moment that Devon Walker darted away from the woman as if she were a burning piece of charcoal and walked off with a disgusted glare. Mr. Scott would have finally allowed himself to breathe, but the most unpredictable captain on this island had not left the place yet – and it seemed like he had found someone to rival him in infamy.

Charles Vane raised a lighter and cautiously applied its flame against the end of his cigar. He sent a meaningful glance to the barkeeper, who returned him a wary stare before he took a few steps away and did his best to pretend he wasn't overhearing their whole conversation.

"Don't thank me," Vane said.

The woman, who had not moved an inch since the beginning of this predicament, did not look amused by the comment. "I could have taken care of him myself," she replied tersely.

Vane exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke. "I don't doubt it. Only you would've had to face his entire crew in the end. There are better ways to make yourself known in Nassau, even for someone like you. What business do you have here, Red Fury?"

Said aloud, the nickname bordered on the ridiculous; but Mr. Scott wasn't ignorant of the dark tales usually associated with it. No one could hear them being whispered repeatedly under the tavern's vaults and laugh freely at the naming afterwards.

"I prefer Audrey," the woman cringed.

"Doesn't answer the question."

The so-called Red Fury sighed. "My last captain liked to throw my name around a little too much. He wasn't that famous himself, you see, so he found it easier to threaten merchants with my wrath rather than his own. Made them surrender more easily," she grumbled. "So, as it happens, I'm on the lookout for someone whose fame could overshadow mine."

If Vane was interested, his face was not selling him out. "You live up to your reputation."

"Do I?" Audrey wondered wryly.

"Jumping from crew to crew is a dangerous thing," the pirate stated. "Let alone for a woman. Being renowned for it and still managing to get hired is, more than anything else, what makes you a mystery."

From the corner of his eye, Mr. Scott could see the woman give the hint of a joyless smile.

"More than anything else?" she repeated. "That's nice to hear. Although I don't see how that's a mystery. I'm perfectly capable as both a sailor and a fighter."

"And yet loyal to none," Vane pointed out.

Audrey clicked her tongue. "Because I never settle down? Come on, that's not something you can judge from gossip only. At any rate, most pirates out there are only loyal until they feel like their personal interests are threatened."

"Not you?"

The woman marked a distinct pause. "As long as I sail with a crew, as long as I trust its captain, I'm as loyal as one can be. My wandering tendencies have nothing to do with opportunism, so to speak."

Silence stretched between the two pirates. Mr. Scott threw a short glance in their direction; Vane was intently staring at his companion, who was herself contemplating the bottles on the shelf. Finally, she spoke in a low voice.

"If I've satisfied your curiosity at last, may I now ask for your name?"

The pirate straightened up, drawing one last puff from his cigar. "Charles Vane, of the _Ranger_ ," he introduced himself.

The woman slowly nodded, the edge of a smile tugging at her lips as she took the information in.

"I happen to be searching for capable new recruits," Vane went on. "I think our interests may overlap. You?"

"Sounds like it," Audrey replied levelly.

The pirate captain did not show any sign of displeasure at the mild response. Instead, he tilted his head, in a seemingly understanding fashion – one of the last things Mr. Scott would have thought him capable of.

"Don't want to make hasty choices?" he asked, parroting her very words. She appeared to stifle a laugh.

"Oh, no, it's not about that. But you'll excuse me if I find it hard to believe that it was so easy," she said.

"To have an offer?"

"To meet the one captain on this island who is not only famed in his own right, but has a woman in his crew already," she rectified. "Makes one believe in fate, doesn't it?"

"I don't," the pirate answered. "Do we have a deal, then?"

The Red Fury sent him a challenging smile. "Aye, captain."

The man didn't utter a word, but approval could be read in his eyes as he turned on his heels to walk away from the counter. Right before she followed in his wake, the woman spun around briefly. "Thank you for everything, sir," she said with a malicious wink at Mr. Scott.

And as he watched her leave, he began to wonder if she was really thanking him for what insignificant help he had provided – and if not for that, why bother with him, the black man, the educated houseboy that they all overlooked until the Guthrie gave him a voice? He shook his head. That mattered little in itself. What he had to worry about was how one of the most ferocious captains on the island had now a living legend under his command.

He sighed once more. _What will Eleanor have to say about this?_

* * *

Audrey always found it amazing how much people could stare at her without ever realizing how noticeable they were – at least, when they did try to be any discrete.

She thought that perhaps she would have expected more from the famously cunning quartermaster of the _Ranger_ ; but then again, she knew better than anyone how deceptive rumors could be. From the corner of her eye, she could see the lanky man dart quick glances in her direction, nervously fidgeting with the thin hairs of his chin as he strode across the dust of Nassau's streets by her side. She had almost stopped paying him attention when he finally spoke up.

"I'm sorry – you, you're… Are you really…?"

"The Red Fury?" Audrey completed. "Apparently that's what I've been called, yes."

It wasn't really a feat to have guessed what had been tormenting him all the way from the Guthrie's establishment. In his defense, his captain had been anything but clear in his instructions, back in the tavern.

 _Jack, this is Audrey Langdon,_ he had said. _She's with us now. Take care of her._ After what he had taken off, muttering about business he had to tend to – who knew what it involved. One thing was certain, though: Charles Vane did not disappoint.

Audrey was not used to easy hirings. Before or after that fateful day, in Port-Royal or in Tortuga, whenever she sought a new flag to sail under she always had to face several rejections and at least one salacious proposal like the one earlier. And those who accepted her in their crew indiscriminately took their time to weigh out the advantages of having a woman among their men and the unavoidable drawbacks – or at least, until now.

Vane had been singularly quick to judge her. Quick to recognize her, too – which proved that he was far from the simple-minded brute that stories depicted. _But that doesn't mean he isn't wild in any way_. Wild was the word. Barging uninvited in a situation that was already difficult to begin with, making another man stand back with a threat that wasn't quite his own, then making a choice over only a few well-placed questions – who in their right mind would do such a thing? A fine move he had made here, though; in this tavern, a crossroad where every captain hoping to trade with the Guthrie household had to present themselves, _someone_ was bound to notice her as she was talking to that unsuspecting bartender. And Vane surely wasn't the only man on this island capable of handling her in his crew.

But he had been the first to extend a hand. And as far as she knew, he was the only one yet to have accepted another woman in his ranks, a woman who at this very moment was walking by her quartermaster's side, ever slightly staying behind him – a lethal shadow following in his steps.

 _Jack Rackham and Anne Bonny._ Brains and brawn, an odd pair almost as notorious as the man leading them. Audrey had forever been curious about them, but now that she had the two right before her eyes, she was not sure how much interest she could safely show. The hat Bonny wore thrust on her reddish hair, hiding a good chunk of her face, did nothing to alleviate the coldness of her stare on the young woman. It didn't feel as though Audrey could do much about it, so she simply ignored it and prayed that the other would not bring about any unnecessary conflict.

Right beside her, Rackham seemed to finally overcome his astonishment to remember he was the greater authority here – and that as such he still had a few responsibilities to assume.

"So," he began, "I suppose you had a role to fill on the last ship you sailed on."

"I was at the helm most of the time," Audrey answered.

The man's eyebrows shot up before he could dissimulate his surprise under a polite cough. _Well, at least he hasn't laughed,_ Audrey mused. Few people ever believed her fit for the task of holding the steering wheel, even less so manipulating it to keep the ship on a regular course. Not that she would resent them for it.

"We'll see what Jones has to say about that," Rackham said carefully. "We're stationed for now, and I can't really say how long we'll have to wait before sailing, so you should have time to talk it over. I'd prefer to warn you, by the way – our crew isn't among the nicest… Well, we are pirates, of course, but–"

"Thank you for your concern, mister quartermaster." It was best to cut him short before he started tangling himself in his own words. "I assure you that I'm used to dealing with this kind of things," she stated, a tinge of weariness in her voice.

Rackham's tense shoulders seemed to relax a little at those words, though not completely. He led them through the sandy alleys traced between wooden barracks and bare tents, past the blurred line separating Nassau and its outskirts. Audrey did her best to repress the sourness that spread in her stomach as they approached their destination.

 _Come on, it's not the first time you meet a new_ family _. Ease off._

But it was easier said than done. No matter the years or the experiences, she simply could not fully erase that instinctive dread which seized her at the idea of confronting a full pirate crew, not knowing what she would be faced with. _But fear is alright,_ she told herself with a shudder. Fear would keep her alive. _And better fear than…_

Audrey let go of her reflections as she reached the outline of a small clearing, scattered crates drawing a jagged row of seats around a fire. The flayed carcass of a pig roasted on a spit, the breeze carrying its savory smell as well as laughter and lively conversations – the latter of which quieted slowly at the appearance of the trio. After ensuring that he had most of the men's attention, Rackham patted Audrey's shoulder while clearing his throat.

"Gentlemen," he called out, "let me introduce you to our newest recruit, miss Audrey Langdon."

The first reactions came after a few seconds of stunned silence – nervous laughs, incredulous whispers, each one louder than the last.

"Audrey Langdon?"

" _The_ Audrey Langdon?"

As Audrey was growing increasingly conscious of Rackham's hand on her, one man stood up lazily.

"Did I hear right?" he said. "The Red Fury has decided to join us? Let's have a look, then."

He planted himself in front of her. Dusk outlined his features in shades of purplish blue, while the nearby fire added golden hues to his skin, highlighting his hairless scalp. His eyes wandered over her body, appraising her as they would have with a piece of meat; it took all the strength Audrey had to keep a neutral expression. At last, he whistled appreciatively.

"You sure are a pretty one," he declared. "No scars... Are you even sure you're a fighter?"

God knew she wanted to slap that smirk off his face. She could have done much worse than that. Instead, Audrey forced her lips into an amiable smile.

"If you have any doubts, then why not go and see for yourself?" she said in her sweetest voice.

The man's hand tugged at the hilt of his sword.

"I'd be more than happy to do that..." he started, but suddenly Rackham had stepped between the two of them and was talking very fast and very low.

"Hamund, I'm not sure that this is a very good idea."

"Why that?" Hamund protested. "We have to see what she's capable of."

 _As always_ , a voice chanted in Audrey's mind. She shivered as once again she crossed looks with Hamund above Rackham's shoulder.

"Yeah, I understand that, but if half the stories I heard about her are true..."

Those words filled her with strange feelings – bitterness at the mention of her ill-acquired fame, gratitude for this man who was obviously not worth much as a brawler, and yet had not hesitated to intervene – whether he wanted to spare her from this or just to avoid trouble in the crew. It was really too bad that she had to reject his help.

"Mister quartermaster," she called.

Rackham glanced at her, his eyes uncertain. She smiled in the most reassuring way she could.

"Don't worry. No killing and no maiming," she promised. "Just a bad wound to his self-esteem. Does that sound fair to you?"

Seeing that he still hesitated, her smile disappeared and she leant forward to whisper in his ear.

"Sooner or later I must prove my worth to these men. Let it be there and now before I have to face more challenges."

At last, Rackham seemed to accept her terms and stepped back. He still shot her a defiant look.

"Alright then. No killing. No maiming."

Audrey nodded. "Count on me," she said as she drew her sword.

She shivered in anticipation. It had actually been a long time since her last true fight, and as much as she disliked this kind of display, the man ought to know better than to provoke her. _They all do._ She watched as Hamund pulled out his own weapon and raised it in the air. Suddenly, he slashed at her; their blades instantly met, to separate and meet again, again and again with a metallic clatter. The crew watched, cheering, but she no longer heard them; nothing else existed but him, her, and their clashing weapons.

It didn't take long for Audrey to figure out Hamund's style of fighting. It was aggressive and rash, more fit for a raw melee than for a duel like this. With almost each attack came an opening, in which she could have slipped, had she only wanted to kill him. She narrowed her eyes at him while parrying another hit. Defeating him cleanly was going to be a difficult thing. She couldn't risk hand-to-hand fighting while he still had his sword at his disposal, so either she had to take it away from him, or find another way to shake him off. One that didn't involve spilling his guts out.

Old memories bubbled up in her mind, flashes of the days when she was still learning the ways of the sword. She was reminded of one lesson in particular.

 _Hey, hey, what do you think you're doing with your feet? Steady, girl! Whoops, and now you're dead._

The bruises she had gotten on that day had been especially humiliating, but they had taught her well. The shadow of a smile crossed her face as the strategy started to form in her head. And she finally started attacking.

The shift was instantaneous. Audrey successively assailed him from the right and the left, up and down, leaving him no time to regain his composure and take the offensive. Faced with such relentless assaults, the man could only grunt and back down. And at the moment she felt a fault in his footing, she struck him harder than ever before.

Hamund fell like a rock on the sand. She didn't waste time and crushed his right wrist under her foot, her blade just a breath away from his throat.

"So, mister Hamund, are we done here?" she asked, her blood rushing through her veins, heart palpitating. She hardly heard the crew shouting and cheering around her, intoxicated with the delightful feeling that came with the win, the one you could savor in your foe's eyes. The man shot her a venomous look.

"Fuck you," he hissed.

Audrey would almost have sneered. _Typical_. She took her foot of him before sheathing her sword and turning to face her quartermaster.

She was a bit saddened to note that his eyes were even more defiant than they originally were. However, she did not really have the time to ponder on that feeling before she felt an arm latch around her shoulders.

"Hey, hey! Red Fury! Is it true that you're as strong as ten men?"

"Yeah! Can you show us that too?"

 _Red Fury._ That god-awful nickname, bound to follow her wherever she went. Could they ever understand how heavy it was? That for each time it had earned her some tranquility, it had attracted twice the trouble? And how much it had cost her. No, there was no way they could get it – and no way she could hold it against them. So she complied, once more, to show them what they wanted to see; and she laughed, as if the ache in her cheeks could make a lie more convincing.

It was only by chance, as she was carried away by the throng of enthusiastic sailors, that Audrey spotted the faint light emitted by the tip of a cigar. There, a pair of eyes was glistening, reflecting the dancing flames as they watched from the shadow of a tent. And even in the dark, she would have never failed to recognize the curve of this strong nose and those razor-sharp cheekbones. Charles Vane returned her an unreadable look before turning around to slowly walk away, fully vanishing from sight. _Decidedly a man of few words,_ Audrey thought.

But it got back to her, now, that she was not the only one who knew the weight of a name.

* * *

"She sure got a warm welcome."

Jack looked up from his plate. Anne Bonny was watching the arm-wrestling match taking place beyond the campfire. The men were so packed it was nearly impossible to see Audrey Langdon competing with another crewmember at the center, each sitting on a wooden crate.

Fire threw flickering lights on Anne's beautiful face, tainting her greenish eyes with an orange glow. The shadow cast on her features by her hat only seemed darker. She looked wild and that was part of what Jack loved her for.

"Darling, I think we can agree that no one could take her seriously unless they saw her in action. Not with that overblown reputation," he half-heartedly snickered. "But once you've witnessed her skills against a man who would never back down against a woman, it's impossible to doubt them. That left the men in awe," he grimaced at his food. "I suspect it'll only get worse as the night goes on."

"That bitch is nothing but a fucking sack of trouble."

Jack glanced back at her. Anne now wore that scowl she kept for things that rubbed her off in a particularly wrong way. He felt the need to soothe her– he was the only one capable of doing so, after all.

"Well, I guess you could say that of our beloved captain, too. And of me – actually, since we're pirates, every one of us is…"

"You know what I mean," she cut him abruptly. "She comes and she goes whenever the fuck she pleases. She thinks she can just fight some cunt and get off the hook just like that. And no one would dare to say anything about it."

Jack frowned at her words. "I'm sorry, are you including yourself in the 'no one'?"

The redoubled intensity of her glare informed him that he shouldn't have asked. He nodded carefully.

"Alright, I understand the problem. But in any case, I'm sure Charles will know how to deal with her."

He was surprised to hear a sneer from his lover. "Him? He knows how to deal with headstrong fuckers, that's for sure. No wonder when he's the worst of all. But since when is he any good with _women_ that are too much like him?"

It did not take much effort for Jack to understand what she was alluding to – _who_ she was alluding to. He spat a few curses under his breath. _How could I miss this?_

But there wasn't much he could do. Not now. Besides, the Red Fury was only a minor inconvenience compared to the plans he had so thoroughly laid out. And she couldn't go as far as to meddle with them.

Could she?

* * *

It was late night when Audrey was finally allowed to regain the sanctuary of her lone hammock. In the end, she had managed to trick herself into having a good time. _Men,_ she thought. They were so strange. So many had been afraid of her, afraid of what she could do, some of them more hurt in their pride than anything else, but still wary of her and her blade. And from her point of view, that was the right way of thinking. But for a reason or another, the men she had spent the evening with had been anything but that. They were fascinated, she guessed; easily forgetful of the danger they were in. _Or maybe they just have steel-hard faith in their captain and his judgement._

She had just settled in a comfortable position when she finally heard the voice she had been waiting for.

"An arm-wrestling contest, really?"

She didn't bother opening her eyes.

"All I did was giving them what they expected. Don't hold it against me."

She heard the sound of footsteps on the sand, coming closer. The same voice continued talking.

"A duel is alright. Build doesn't do all the job when it comes to blades. But this? You should know better than to show off like this. They could turn on you at any given moment. When they decide they've had enough being beaten in strength by some twig of a girl."

Audrey groaned. She didn't have the energy to argue at this hour of the night. She shifted in her hammock to look at the girl that stood on the sand below. Even in the dark, her blond hair seemed to shine, framing her harmonious face and cascading on her blue dress. Her clear eyes were full of reproach, but it took more than that to impress Audrey.

"They've all heard about me already," she sighed. "Disappointing them could have been more dangerous than… _showing off_. And I'm no twig," she protested.

"You're not quite bulky either," the other replied tersely. But she ended her reproaches here. Audrey folded her arms under her head, wriggling a bit before saying:

"So we're here, now, huh? The real stage. Is it alright for me to be with them?"

"It should be," the girl answered. "But given the timing, I don't think you'll ever sail under this banner."

Audrey frowned. "Oh." All these fascinating meetings, and it would still be fruitless in the end. "Are you sure about that?"

"Certain."

"Nothing I can do about it?"

"Nothing you'd be wise to do," her companion replied. "Trust me."

"Always," Audrey grumbled. After all, she was the one who _knew._ As for herself, well, she was the one blindly wandering, measuring herself to what this world could throw at her. She set her eyes on the stars above. "Thank you, Cosima. For, you know, standing in the sidelines."

Cosima waved off her hand dismissively. "I've never been one to meddle in." She paused. "Good luck," she finally said, her tone solemn.

And, for the first time today, Audrey produced an honest – if derisive – smile.

"Who needs luck when I have you?"

* * *

 **A/N: And there we go. For the "old" readers, feel free to comment on the changes you've noticed. For the "new" ones, first impressions on the OC, the writing, the characterization and the hints I've given you about the overall plot are very welcome as well. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated!**

 **To my reviewers:**

 _AmalieNico_ **: I'm glad you like those stories! Her background was not realistic enough to my current taste, though, so it will be subject to a few changes, but it's still good to know that the first version was appreciated. And you're right - Billy is really too cute for his own good. I'm really sorry about the late answer (and update) and hope you're still on board!**

 _minstorai_ **: I'm glad to see we have some common references, though I hadn't imagined Cosima as an Evelyne Brochu doppelganger. And yeah, Flint is the storyteller - only rivaled by his new quartermaster - but maybe a slightly tipsy Audrey would have a different opinion ;) Hot Carrot Man is a thing I've picked on Tumblr, so I can't take credit for that one! Thanks for the review and my apologies for the late response and late update, I hope you're still following!**

 _greaserslady_ **: well, I've not only decided to continue this story, I'm rebooting it. Hope that's not a source of disappointment for you! It wasn't so much writer's block but rather a cruel lack of time and availability But thanks for your concern, though! To be honest, I was just a few clicks away from deleting this story when your review came in - not kidding, it felt like destiny itself had sent me a message. So you've pretty much saved it from the dark corners of my laptop, and I can never thank you enough for that. Hope you're still following!**

 _NationOfThieves_ **: I'm glad you enjoyed the story so far, although things might remain platonic for quite a while between Vane and Audrey - but that doesn't mean there won't be any sparks. Thanks for your concern, I hope you're still on board with the new version!**

 **Thank you all for reading, and sorry once again for the six-months delay! The reviews and follows that still came during the hiatus have really been a blessing, for this story and for me as well. See you next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's the second chapter, although a little later than I had anticipated. (Blame it on the Vane dialogues.)**

 **After being introduced to the Ranger's crew in the first chapter, Audrey still has to participate in the grand scheme of things… But will she be allowed to do so, and how much influence can she have?**

 **I'm very thankful for the feedback and the follows, all those warm my little heart. As always, responses to reviews are at the bottom, enjoy the read!**

* * *

"Are we celebrating anything?"

Audrey had the very strong feeling that she was interrupting something between Jack and Anne. If anything, the murderous look the red-haired woman was sending her way was a huge hint, as well as the avoidance in Jack's eyes; but after a few days in the Ranger's crew, it had become clear that _something_ was going on, and among those who knew anything about it, the flamboyant quartermaster was the one who would most surely give away information. She had discovered that, though he was firm enough with the male crewmembers, he always seemed softer with her – almost intimidated. Whether it was due to her gender or the fact that she had proved to be quite skilled with blades, Audrey felt no qualms at exploiting that weakness. Predictably, Jack squirmed uncomfortably before he answered her.

"Our future successes, I believe."

Audrey sighed at the thinly veiled lie and looked around her, gazing at what seemed to be an ordinary night in Mr. Noonan's brothel. Music was playing and laughs and chatter were filling the air, which was heavy with the scent of various perfumes and the underlying smell of filth. Nothing betrayed the fact that, just hours ago, a wave of panic had swept across the town, raised by one rumor: a warship from the Royal Navy had been sighted at large. A number of crews had immediately set sail, or so Audrey had been told. And yet most of her new companions were here, each member looking more carefree than the other, and her captain seemed the merriest of all. She could see him from where she stood, leaning against the wall while a whore tried her hardest to finally get him in her bed. He would have looked almost bored to the ordinary eye, but from the fine smile playing on his lips Audrey knew better. _He'll have her on her knees before he even bats an eye._ Somehow, the thought annoyed her – that he'd have women wrapped around his finger without showing any sign of interest himself. But she wasn't concerned about Charles Vane's various conquests as much as she was about her quartermaster's disappearance, earlier this evening – and how it curiously coincided with the landing of the _Walrus_ in the bay. _Captain's Flint ship._

A fast movement caught her eye. A golden-haired woman had just barged in the brothel, and her clothing was far too covering for her to be one of the workers. Just the way she stood told Audrey how prideful the lady was. _Those really are fine clothes._ But what definitely sold her identity to the pirate woman was the nonchalance with which she glanced over the shameless spectacle spread over the courtyard. Even now, Audrey couldn't have reproduced her cool. She watched her turn around, visibly looking for someone – and given the expression she wore, Audrey would not have wished to be that someone.

"Miss Guthrie!"

Charles Vane had just noticed her, too, and his call erased any lingering doubts Audrey could have left about who that woman was. His booming voice made everyone focus on what was happening between him and her.

"That's not ending well," Audrey whispered while the woman made her way to the visibly intoxicated captain, who smiled broadly at her.

That smile was wiped clean from his face when she punched him hard. The whole crowd gasped, even the music stopped playing, and Audrey grimaced – she knew what was coming next.

It was hardly a surprise when Vane, having sobered up a bit, returned the hit and made the woman fall down to the floor. Once again, the crowd voiced its shock, as Vane sent a triumphant grin around before extending his hand to her. The woman stood back up on her own before making her way out, and he followed her.

Audrey shook her head.

"As expected. Well, on that note, I think I'll need to take a dump," she told her crewmates.

She could feel the disgusted look of Jack on her back as he muttered "such exquisite manners". She didn't care – she preferred him focused on her lack of courtesy rather than on her whereabouts.

It was the first time she had seen Eleanor Guthrie in the flesh, but not the first time she had heard about her. She was something like a queen to this chaotic place, the person holding the reins of the whole trade that granted a livelihood to the pirates of Nassau. They all came to her with their stolen goods, and she bought it to sell on legal markets: one foot in the civilized world, where her roots lay, and one foot in pirates' ruthless universe, where she had grown to be just as sharp as the worst of them – sometimes sharper. And thanks to her position, she could hand over leads on the location of merchant ships, greatly facilitating their hunt. It was not for nothing that Audrey had chosen her tavern as the place to begin her search for an employer. Her presence and her obvious anger only confirmed what Audrey already knew, but now was the time to obtain some more intelligence on what exactly Vane had been scheming.

Which was why the young woman found herself under the window of a certain room in the brothel, spying on the conversation the two were having.

Eleanor's aggravated tone was the first to reach her ears.

"... Flint. His captaincy. I had an interest."

Audrey heard the raspy voice of Vane answer her.

"You'll live."

"You'll make it right."

"Why would I do that?"

"'Cause if you don't, you're finished here," she spat. "I won't sell another ounce of your cargo. See how long you'll last as captain, when your crew can't get paid."

To those who knew him, Vane's tone was amused when he replied. "Eleanor, your father sells my cargo. Whatever is it you're upset about, I doubt he feels the same."

"When I tell him you put our biggest earner out of business, he'll..."

Vane cut her. "Remind you that Flint hasn't been your biggest earner in quite some time. You'll also be reminded of what you've always known, but never accepted: that if forced, your father will always choose profits over daughters. Hate your father? I wouldn't blame you. Hate me, too, if you'd like. And if you feel the need," his tone harshened, "cling to Flint, and his legend, and a past the rest of us have long outgrown. But make no mistake about it, whatever future this place has left, I'm it."

Audrey rolled her eyes in the dark. For all his charisma and his quick thinking, it seemed her captain sometimes had the maturity and humility of a five-year old.

"And if you ever challenge me again in front of my crew," he pursued, "I may just forget that I loved you once."

 _Oh, great._ Only silence followed, and Audrey understood that the conversation inside was over. She emerged cautiously from the hedges that surrounded the building and exhaled a deep breath, internally cursing her captain and his incredibly misplaced taste in women. Of all people, his ex was the one person you didn't want to anger on this island… And he looked very eager to do so.

 _But what has he done to piss her off so much?_

* * *

It didn't take her long to find out, not now that she knew for sure it had something to do with Flint. Of all the names she had heard when it came to the pirates populating Nassau, his was the most prominent. There were tales about how he had emerged from the shadows on a moonlit night, how he had captivated men into following him with a talent comparable to that of a mermaid, how incredibly fast he had risen to fame from thereon. Some stories talked about an extremely refined strategist – some others talked about a ferocious madman. A man capable to divide opinions this way was bound to have anything that concerned him and his crew closely followed and reported just as closely; and soon, Audrey knew to the names of the people Vane had killed tonight.

It took her more time to find him alone.

He stopped when he saw her barring his way, the torches lighting the trail giving her a long, swaying shadow that cut across the sand. He had obviously drunk more during the course of the night, and after that brief moment of hesitation he decided on walking right past her. She spun around to follow him.

"May I ask a question, captain?" she inquired innocently.

Vane almost strayed away without a word, but in the end he halted his steps and grunted, "Ask."

"When men from a powerful crew are murdered and the culprit is so blatantly obvious, it might just have been signed… What do you think happens then?"

Audrey could only see his back, but it was sufficient for her to witness the broad muscles tense noticeably under the fabric of his shirt. He barely turned his head to give her a sideways glance, a silent warning dancing in his eye.

"What makes you think I have to answer that?"

She only smiled – her sweetest, kindest, most taunting smile.

"Do you remember our little talk about loyalty, captain? Back when you chose to offer me a place among your men." He didn't budge, but the answer lay clear in the slight clenching of his fists. "I think I mentioned trust, back then. There's no loyalty without trust, I'm sure you know that. And there can be no trust," she said lightly, "where there is no honesty."

By the time she ended her sentence, Vane's irritation with her was outright showing on his face. Audrey highly suspected that, had he not gone lengths to hire her before anyone else, had she not worn the name she wore, he would have had her eating sand by now. Nothing guaranteed he wouldn't do it all the same if she kept egging him on like this – but she had gone too far to back down now.

"Now, you're the one in charge," she stated."It's up to you whether you explain to me what you were thinking when you had those people killed, and what exactly made it worth angering both James Flint and Eleanor Guthrie. But as the backlash of your actions could very well affect us all, it would be pleasant to know why I'm risking my life by your side – and if it's still worth the shot."

Vane did not answer immediately. Audrey found herself holding her breath as those silent seconds stretched, while she wondered if he was going to punch her in the face like he had done with the Guthrie woman. It was with relief that she watched him shift on his feet to directly face her, his whole being relaxing until at last he stopped looking like a beast ready for the kill.

"The Walrus's crew has good men. Men I could rarely find if I contented myself with raking ports for new recruits or accepting sailors from defeated ships. But they're too faithful," he half-growled, half-snickered, "to leave their captain while he's still in command. And so I intend to see Flint deposed."

Audrey nodded. As dirty as this move was, it made sense. Flint gone, he might not so easily be replaced. Even if they did elect a new captain, chances were that his skills would look pale compared to those of a legend such as his predecessor; and then, defections would surely follow.

"And you'd pick them up like ripe fruits," she said out loud, letting out more of her admiration than she intended. "I guess those people you killed represented critical votes. Is that plan yours?"

He made the slightest shrug. "Jack's, mostly."

 _Thought so._ It wasn't that she found Vane too dumb for it – it was simply that, from what she had seen of him in the last few days, this type of convoluted machination was just not like him. She thought that, to get anything done, this man would jump right in the middle of the mess and strike exactly where it hurt; but to manipulate from the shadows, that… She just couldn't picture him doing it. Not of his own volition, anyway. _He must really want those men._

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it from your mouth," she admitted, "but our problem still lies unsolved. Flint may go down – which is still less than certain – but what will happen when Miss Guthrie declares our cargo unfit for sale?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Let me deal with her. She's always been insufferable, but she's not that stupid."

"She was stupid enough to hit you in the face for everyone to see," Audrey pointed out. "Can you really say she'll stop there?"

Another silence. "You've got an awful lot to say about all this."

She snorted at his skirting of the problematic. He almost sounded amused. _"_ You don't get as far as I am now without some common sense," she said matter-of-factly. "Sometimes I've got to compensate for my captain."

"And what about when said captain feels no need for such compensation?"

She eyed Vane warily. It was hard to judge from his ever-impassible face what answer to give to the challenge in his voice, even more so in the dim light provided by the torches. Twice tonight he had demonstrated how fast he could become violent – and how easily. Provoking such a man would be dancing on a razor's edge. But he looked far too comfortable leading that conversation for her to play low.

"I'd say," Audrey breathed, "that he must be pretty fucking stupid then."

No bared sword. No angry curse at her, no threat of violence, not a glimpse of annoyance on his part. Vane only laughed – two low rumbles echoing from the back of his throat, the last sound she would have expected to hear from him in this situation.

"Good thing that's not my case," he commented as he began to stalk away, obviously meaning to bring this talk to an end. Abashed as she was, Audrey would almost have let him go. Almost.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you off the hook like that?" she called him, regretting that she sounded more like a vexed child than a very pissed grown-up woman.

He didn't even stop, this time. "What more would you have me say?"

Had she took the time to think, Audrey would have remembered that this man was her captain – and that as such she was supposed to owe him respect. But right here and now, between him and her and his insupportably daring intonations, none of that hierarchy came to her mind. She dashed off after him.

"Well, maybe you could tell me again what was it that you had planned to appease Eleanor Guthrie – who I understood has more than one reason to dislike you," Audrey said, a distinct irritation growing stronger in each of her words. "There's no way we should pay the price of some recurring feud between the two of you."

"I said I would deal with it myself," he growled. "Take my word for it."

"Is that all the guarantee you can give?"

Vane spun so suddenly on his heels that she almost collided with him. He was close now – too close for comfort – but she couldn't bring herself to step back. His eyes bore a dangerous glint to them as they stared right down into her own.

"I've known Eleanor Guthrie for a while. And I know her well. The only reason why she allowed herself to strike me tonight is because she clung to the illusion that I would let her get away with it. She knows better now. This is all the guarantee you need."

For all his earlier playfulness, Vane's voice and face were now as hard as each other. Audrey knew that this was more than just annoyance at her nitpicking. For that reason – and because that look she was pinned under affected her more than she would have admitted – she adopted a softer tone in her answer.

"I can only hope for all of our sakes that you're right," she replied quietly.

Vane stormed away without another word, the crashing of the waves swallowing the sound of his footsteps in the sand. Audrey didn't try to hold him back, this time around. What he left unsaid was enough for her.

* * *

If yesterday had taught Audrey anything, it was that in the end, Jack Rackham lived up to his reputation. Behind his awkward airs and his taste for sarcastic quips, the man _always_ seemed up to something. That was why, as soon as she saw him striding with a certain haste to his step through the camp, Anne Bonny following in his wake, she began to closely shadow him, right until he penetrated in the clerk's tent. Dodging the woman's defiant gaze proved quite difficult, but she had long time learnt how to make herself inconspicuous.

Her heart jumped in her chest when she saw her captain approach the small construction, shortly entering it to then step out and walk determinedly to an unknown destination. Audrey watched him pass by her observation spot, where she sat cross-legged on a wooden crate in the shadow of two narrowly built tents. A crease marked his brow, and he was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice her. Audrey briefly wondered if she had better prioritize him over his quartermaster – _what could make him this preoccupied?_ – but after a little reflection she decided to focus on her original target. There was no forgetting who had devised the plan she had uncovered the day before – and if she was found out, she was less afraid of Jack's reaction than she would have been of Vane's. _There's no forgetting that look either._

Jack soon stepped out of the tent, too, and made his way across the sand while hiding something in the inner pocket of his coat – Audrey could only guess what. She retreated in a parallel alley as he and Anne came closer to her location, and then kept tracking them throughout Nassau's dusty streets.

It wasn't surprise as much as dismay that struck her upon seeing Noonan's brothel again. It was impossible for her to enter unnoticed – especially if Anne was still acting as a watch – so she decided on climbing on the balconies as fast as she could. Fortunately, the people down the street barely paid her any attention, too focused on their own business to bother looking up. It took her some time before finding the right room, which was by chance also upstairs; once she did, she sat down near the closed shutters and waited.

For a while, there was nothing but small talk inside, between Jack and a feminine voice marked by a strange accent. The conversation bored Audrey to death – her quartermaster's eloquence had clearly known better days – and she began to wonder if it was really such a good idea to come here. She was on the verge of falling asleep when she finally heard things move in the room.

Another man entered, and from the ruckus she could guess that he was taking out tools of some kind. His speech was distinctly more refined than what you mostly heard on the island – so Audrey could tell as he evaluated the luster of something unknown to her. Her mind went back to that purse she had seen Jack pocketing. _Pearls?_

After a while, the appraiser left with his payment, and with him gone the woman and Jack started exchanging again.

"Shall we discuss delivery?"

"The wrecks at sundown. Once he sees the pouch with the seal unbroken, he will hand over the page," the woman assured.

That helpful information was followed with what Audrey identified as awkward flirtation before the door burst open.

"You," growled a very low, very pissed voice.

Audrey shrank against the wall almost unconsciously. Those intonations were unmistakable.

"Is there a problem, captain?" Jack asked.

Audrey began slowly standing up. Past her instinctive fear, there was a good chance that she might have to run very soon.

"She doesn't have your page," Vane snarled. "Flint does. He killed Singleton, took it off his body. His crew's skipping around the island like the prize is as good as theirs."

Audrey meditated on this as the three of them argued inside. _So Flint is still captain._ That would have explained why Vane was in this state of fury. _What the hell is that page they're talking about?_

Her reflections were cut short when Vane finally lost his nerve inside, letting his frustration and rage all out on the woman. Audrey grimaced for the poor lady - whoever was the target of Vane's wrath was in a very dire position – but then she heard a loud bang, and suddenly the window right beside her flung open. One man hurriedly came out, hardly looking below before climbing down the balcony. Then he noticed her, and for a second their eyes met. She barely had the time to register his curly, dark hair and his overall face before she realized what his flight meant.

 _Shit._

Just as quickly as the other had, Audrey jumped on the railing but instead climbed up to the roof, just in time before she heard footsteps on the wood planks below. As stealthily as she could, she ran around the opening that let light rain down on the central yard, awfully aware of how visible she was and her mind running full speed on what to do next; then it dawned on her that she could, in fact, have a valid reason to be in here now that her captain had made his appearance.

She immediately climbed down to break in the first open room she found. It happened to be occupied, but she didn't even glance at the disturbed couple who threw a few insults at her as she left, trying to adopt a slower pace to arrive naturally before the door Anne was guarding.

"They're in?" she asked as casually as possible.

The question earned her a sharp glare. "Stay out."

The words were out before Audrey even thought of them. "Or what? You're not going to make me believe that you're standing guard for Jack and the captain to have a fuck. And whatever concerns the crew's business concerns me, too."

She made a grab for the door handle. With a speed that told of the countless times this move had been made, Anne reached for the twin swords hanging at her sides, menacingly baring half of the blades. For all her glares and silent frowns, the woman had never openly threatened Audrey before – and because of that, Audrey had managed to keep a semblance of diplomacy. _But not here. Not now._

She didn't take her hand off the knob, she didn't move an inch; she simply gave a slight turn of the head to look right in Anne's eyes. "Believe me, you do not want to come to this."

The ice in her tone only made the woman's hands clench tighter on her weapons. Audrey almost let a curse out. _Can't I ever have it easy?_ But she had just told the truth. None of them wanted a fight at this moment – and she wasn't walking away.

"I know you don't trust me," she said in a low voice. "I can understand why. I can understand what this life does to you and how anyone can become an enemy in your eyes, and I'm not asking you to change that because I'm not sure you can. But you can't cast me out forever. And the sooner this ends, the better we'll be able to function as a crew. Wouldn't you agree?"

Anne held her gaze, longer than what was comfortable. Audrey didn't flinch, too aware that she couldn't show any sign of weakness now. At last, the other woman fully scabbarded her swords, leaving her stiff stance to lean back on the door's ledge. Wariness still danced in her greenish eyes, but her crossed arms no longer meant harm.

"Go on," she drawled. "Can't say you'll be able to do much, though."

Audrey sent her a curt nod, relieved, before finally opening the door.

"So, captain, it seems your plan… What the hell is going on here?"

She didn't have to fake her astonishment at the scene before her eyes. Charles Vane had a woman pinned against the wall, his hand at her throat - probably the "agent" that she had heard talking earlier. Jack was standing next to them, very obviously trying to reason with his captain. As soon as he saw her, he walked in her direction, his hands raised as if to calm her down.

"Audrey, I'm aware this needs further explanation, but we don't have quite the time..."

Vane chose this moment to release his victim of his hold. The woman fell at his feet, clutching her neck.

"If he's wrong about this, he'll answer to our crew," he warned. "If you're lying, you'll answer to me."

Those words said, he stormed out of the room. Audrey loudly sighed before locking her stare on her quartermaster.

"Now that our ever sympathetic captain has left, will you tell me what the fuck happened?" she asked.

Jack let out a deep breath, fumbling with his hair, before finally giving her an answer.

"We are very close to obtaining a piece of information allowing us to locate with utmost precision _l'Urca de Lima_. A Spanish galleon carrying more gold than in your wildest dreams," he specified.

"What..." The news were more than good, although she had no interest in the gold. "Then why is the captain in such a foul mood?"

"Because Flint has told his crew that he detains this very piece of information. Which is false, since our agent here is certain that the seller has it," he added, gesturing towards the woman who was still recovering, curled up against the wall.

 _The seller..._ Her mind flashed back to the man with blue eyes and dark hair. "A thief, then. From Flint's very crew, I suppose. I guess he's well-advised to remain in the shadows," she mused, remembering her captain's recent flare. "Where does that lead us?"

"We pay five hundred pesos the information," Jack said. "And then, well..." He waved his hand. "We'll decide what to do."

Audrey was glad he had a plan, but a frown still formed on her face.

"You know this is very risky."

Jack shrugged. "History has always been written so. If this goes awry, I'll be a madman. But if it succeeds, even you might call me a genius."

She sneered. "Yeah, I'll let you believe that." Her laugh didn't last long, though; she had not forgotten Cosima's warning. _This smells horribly wrong._ "Just tell me those pearls are not all that the crew possesses right now."

Jack became suddenly very interested in the contemplation of his shoes. Audrey shook her head in desperation. _Now I understand Anne's comment. How long has she had to put with the two of them?_ Both men were so caught up in moving forward, to greater heights, greater prizes, that they seemed to forget how much it could cost. It wasn't long before her quartermaster muttered some semblance of an apology to then leave, clearly embarrassed after Vane's little scene. Audrey took the opportunity to have a closer look to the woman that the captain had nearly killed off.

She was beautiful, with her green eyes and delicate, tan skin; her overall attire and heavy make-up marked her as one of the workers. She threw a wary look her way, which didn't really surprise Audrey. "Calm down, my manners aren't as bad as my captain's," she said, crouching next to her. "Are you going to be alright?"

The whore nodded. _It takes guts to trade with people from my crew,_ Audrey thought. _I'm sure she's telling the truth._ Seeing that she wasn't going to say anything else, Audrey stood back up and was on the leave when she heard a hoarse voice speak up.

"Who are you?"

She turned around to face the whore, whose look hadn't changed.

"My name is Audrey Langdon," she answered softly.

A light appeared in the woman's eyes. "You're the one they hired. The Red Fury."

 _Quit calling me that._

"Indeed. And who would you be?" she asked, more to be polite than anything else.

"I'm Max." When you took the time to gaze right into them, her eyes were quite intoxicating, Audrey found out. She tore herself from them before saying:

"Be careful then, Max."

* * *

Audrey left the room with a growing unease. It wasn't enough to have uncovered Rackham's little schemes, to finally be involved in the crew's business, to have solved the lingering tension between her and Anne; she needed to make those plans of theirs safer. _Well, if I manage to live through them._

On her way down, she crossed looks with a stranger who eyed her very suspiciously. In other circumstances, she would have felt flattered to catch his attention – he quite suited her taste, with his tall, well-built stature and his handsome face – but right now she didn't like the defiance in his eyes, so she got out of the brothel as swiftly as she could. _Who in the world was this? And what was he doing in a whorehouse without a girl by his side?_ The only reason she could see was that he was standing guard, but for what? _Christ, none of this is good._

Audrey knew she could have asked Jack to accompany him in the wrecks tonight, but at this point she still preferred to keep them in the dark about how much she knew. When Vane and his quartermaster left, soon after the sunset, she followed closely after them, skipping amidst the rocks. After a while, they stopped their course; she crouched to approach cautiously, and then finally spotted a silhouette hiding in the landscape just as she did. She briefly smiled to herself. _Well, isn't that our thief._

She considered the situation. Right now, the only thing that protected the fellow was that no one knew his face – no one… except her. And here he was, just before her, like a ripe fruit ready for the taking. Audrey felt a pang of resentment for the man. He simply asked too much for a piece of paper, no matter what was written on it – and there was no telling if he had not replaced the schedule with pure gibberish. _If this goes the way he wants then he has us. There's no way I'm letting that happen,_ she thought as she progressed slowly between the stones.

But all her silent determination was brought down by a gunshot, way too close for her liking. It barely missed the thief's head. She saw a large silhouette to her right dash towards him, and quickly decided it had become far too dangerous in here and it was time to fall back.

But she was not the only one to have been alerted by the gunshot; from the corner of her eye she saw several other shadows converge towards the scene. Audrey gave up all hope of discretion and started running as fast as she could towards the only direction from which there wasn't anyone coming, praying that no one would mistake her for the thief. _Hell, this running around is seriously incriminating me._

She ran for a while. Her heart was beating terrifyingly fast, and adrenaline pumped through her veins, fear gnawing at her insides as she took steps amidst the irregular stones, nearly twisting her ankles. She was only starting to feel slightly relieved when, upon climbing a rock, she bumped hardly into someone.

A surprised sound escaped her lips, and she would have fallen down had she not desperately clung to the stranger's shirt, who in turn grasped her shoulders tightly.

"Hey!"

She looked up. It was the man from Noonan's brothel – the tall and handsome one. He recognized her too, frowning for a second; but that second of distraction was all Audrey needed to kick him in the groin and take off, leaving him groaning in pain behind.

"Sorry, pretty boy," she whispered as she made her escape.

Thankfully, she didn't bump into anyone else after that, and soon she reached the borders of the port, out of breath. She quickly checked her surroundings, but no one seemed to have emerged from the barren rocks yet; she couldn't picture herself going back to the camp that easily, so she decided to take a walk in town to ease her raw nerves.

As she had come to know during the past week, losing herself in Nassau's night was a surprisingly relaxing experience, once she had made sure her purse was out of harm's way. She could let herself be swallowed by the atmosphere of pleasure and decadence. In the taverns, in the streets, everyone was simply enjoying the evening – or at least so it seemed. Paying closer attention, one could see prostitutes display their charms like poisoned flowers would have, bullies and thieves roaming the streets with predatory looks. Like anything in those waters, Nassau's beauty had its own thorns.

Once fully free of the dreadful feeling that the wrecks had left on her, Audrey headed back to the camp, intending to have a good night's sleep after the emotions of the day. But she should have known better.

Audrey was puzzled to see Anne and the captain dragging the whore she had met in the afternoon in the sandy trails of the camp, and even more so when they threw her unceremoniously into some cabin down the alley. She rushed to them as Anne entered behind Max.

"Hey, what the hell?" she shouted out to Vane, who shot her a sharp look.

"We lost five thousands pesos tonight because of her," he hissed. "It's only normal she's the one paying for it."

It took her a few seconds to fully comprehend what he had just said. But when she did, she only felt angrier.

"So you intend to hand her to the men like this? You know what's going to happen," she accused him. "You know she's not the one to have lost your money. We don't have the page, do we? But we should still have our method of payment. If anyone lost it, it's not her, but our beloved quartermaster."

As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she dreaded them. She knew that Jack would pay dearly for that mistake. And given the look on Vane's face, he knew that too.

"And what would you have me do? I won't have my quartermaster gutted right in front of my eyes while he still can be of any use. _Someone_ has to pay," he said, his voice uncompromising. "And I don't advise you try to stop it if you don't want to end up the way she did."

She knew he was just informing her of the risk of taking action, but Audrey glared at him anyway, ready to remind him of who she was and where she came from. He seemed to remember it before she had to speak.

"You'd like to stop this? Well, go on. Maybe you can kill some of them, maybe you can kill them all. But don't think for a second that I will let you do so and stand idle," he warned.

For a moment, she just stared at him, searching past her anger, past his own to find something she could cling on – something that would tell her she could still follow him and sleep soundly. But all he gave her was those eyes, those same eyes he had shown her yesterday; and within them, a raging storm, deep-seated pain hidden behind walls of steel, a conflict that would not settle. And still, Vane did not falter. Perceiving that nothing more could be said or done, she turned on her heels and left, fuming.

It was the first time, Audrey realized, that she saw him as a leader – the leader of ruthless, hardened pirates. She had always known he was the most dangerous of them... But what she had refused to see was that sometimes, no matter how strong, how feared, or how respected he was, he was ruled by those men and not the other way around.

And so was she.

* * *

 **A/N: It was only as I was rewriting this chapter that I came to compare Flint with a mermaid. Warm and enchanting voice? Check. Charming men and women alike? Check. Promises you the world and lands you in a life-threatening situation? Double check. Now I can't get out of my head the picture of Toby Stephens with his mighty 'stache and a shining, lustrous fishtail.**

 **Dialogues with Vane are so goddamn hard to write. Finding the balance between what would tickle him enough to make him interested and what would make him lose his temper is tricky as all hell, and I feel like if I don't pay attention I'm just going to paint a fangirl's fantasy in his place and step right into OOC-ness. And if I set out to write this fic, it's primarily to honor the characters we know and love – not to play with pale copies of them.**

 **As a note on what links the first confrontation between Vane and Audrey and the last, there are two things that have been noted in the series for riling him up: people bringing up his relationship with Eleanor, and seeing people enslaved. I think that he felt bad for making Max go through this, but also for being unable to reach for Eleanor the way he would have wanted. I won't expand myself on that or I'll end up doubling the length of this already lengthy author note, but I felt forced to point it out in case it did not make sense for some readers.**

 **Well, what did you think of this chapter? Do her interactions with Vane feel authentic? Are you satisfied with the writing and general characterization? Please let me know in a review, as always constructive criticism is much appreciated!**

 **To my reviewers:**

 _01cheers_ **: thanks for the read and the review! I'm less interested in modifying the overall plot than I am in studying the various characters populating the Black Sails universe and portraying accurate relationships, but I still hope that the story won't disappoint you :)**

 _minstorai_ **: thanks for the review, I'm glad you like it even more! For more information about the story in itself and what direction I've decided to take, I've left an author note right at the beginning of the first chapter – although I understand if you skipped past it, I tend to make those massive…**

 **Thank you all for reading, and see you next time!**


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